


091 - Drunk Fun

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Reader-Insert, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-11 03:20:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17438960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompt “can you do one where the character is tipsy and very affectionate and van catches on and reciprocates (smutty but extremely consensual if possibly)” // Note: I focused more on the lead up to the sex, because that’s the fun part of that prompt.





	091 - Drunk Fun

"Noooooooooooo," you said to Sophia in disbelief. She finished reapplying her lipstick; it was a bright lilac purple and it popped against her dark skin. You were leaning on the bathroom door, drunk and happy. She turned to you. 

"Yeah-ha. Benji told me so," she replied in a matter of fact tone. She swayed on the spot, also drunk and happy. You narrowed your eyes at her, looking for the lie.

"But he's so pretty?"

"And so are you. You should probably make a move, yeah?"

Sophia turned back to the mirror and tried to fix her fishtail braid. You began to process the information she had given you. Van, who you had a crush on from the moment you met him, also liked you. Benji told her so. You were new to the group, having met Sophia at work a few months prior to her birthday party. When she invited you out for drinks with her friends, you clicked with them all too well to go back to being a work acquaintance. You and Sophia became best friends, and by extension you became good friends with the guys. She picked your crush as soon as you felt it. She teased you about it all the time.

You followed her back out into her party. Someone pulled her away from you and she gave you a look of encouragement. You went to find more alcohol. Maybe liquid courage. Maybe a memory blocker. By some twist of fate, Van was in the kitchen. He was sitting on the table with his feet planted on a chair. He was yelling at Larry, who stood in the middle of the room holding three empty beer bottles. They both stopped like rabbits in the headlights when you walked in.

"What are you doing?" you asked. Van smiled at you. Larry looked guilty. Neither of them answered at first.

"Yeah, Larry. What are you doing?"

Larry looked back and forth from you to Van. He slowly put the beer bottles in the sink and walked out the room without saying anything. You and Van laughed as you watched him leave.

"No, but what was he doing?" you asked again, genuinely curious.

"He was gonna juggle them," Van told you.

"Can he juggle?"

"No. Absolutely not." You nodded and walked to the fridge. You started to rifle through the bottles, looking for something good. "Whatcha doing?"

"Alcohol," you replied. He laughed.

"Then it's your lucky day." You turned around. He was holding a bottle of tequila. "Do a couple of shots with me?" One shot of tequila with anyone was dangerous. A couple of shots of tequila with Van McCann was a fucking dumb idea. You were so in. You watched him pour unmeasured amounts into regular glasses. "Don't need no salt or anything?" he asked.

"Nope. You?"

"Ruins the burn, don't it?" You smiled and held your glass up to his. You cheered and downed the shot. As you swallowed multiple times in quick succession, you realised it was probably closer to a shot and a half. You held a straight face as his twisted in distaste. When he looked at you, he must have read your expression as smug. "Alright. That was practice. Another." He poured again. Your glasses chinked together again and swallowed. Second time around you maintained eye contact. When you finished you licked your licks reflexively. You watched Van try not to pull a face.

"Weak, Van, weak," you laughed. He grinned and shrugged. "I'm going to find Soph. I'll see you later," you farewelled.

"You definitely will."

…

The tequila hit you about ten minutes later and you sat down on a beanbag in the corner of the lounge room. You watched people dance. A song came on and it reminded you of something you couldn’t remember, and made you feel things you didn't know how to explain. You leant backwards and watched the room upside down. You moved your arms around and twinkled your fingers, giggling at the feeling. Someone dropped down on the beanbag next to yours. You sat up, the room slowly turning the right way around. It made you dizzy and it took a second to focus. It was Van. He was watching you with a grin.

"You are very drunk," he said. You nodded.

"Are you?"

"Fuck me yes. I just… It took me like… an hour to light a fucking smoke. My hands feel all funny," he said. It wasn't a joke but it made you laugh. "You alright, though? Don't need water or anything?"

You didn't know, so you thought. Water. Did you need water? No. Maybe. No. Definitely not. You were cold though. You wanted a hoodie or a blanket. You needed to verbalise that. You looked at Van, and he was watching you with a lazy smile.

"I am cold," you said. He nodded once and it looked like his head was heavy. He held a finger up, saying 'one minute; be right back' without words. It took him a while to stand, and he stumbled a few steps before working out how to walk. You watched him navigate through the crowd, brushing past people who smiled at him with affection. Suddenly, he was back on the beanbag. You made a weird squeak of surprise. "You were just gone! How'd you get back so fast?" He laughed and started to carefully pat a blanket over you.

"I've been gone for like, aaaaaaaaaaaages, babe. Stopped to have a smoke,"

"Really?" You would have bet your life he was gone for ten seconds. He looked at you and chuckled.

"Wouldn't lie to ya, Y/N. Not cold anymore?" You looked down at the blanket he'd put over you. You wriggled down into the beanbag more. You shook your head no. "Good. That took a lot of fucking effort," he said. He also wriggled down into his beanbag, but rested so his head was using your stomach as a pillow. He closed his eyes and you wanted to touch his hair. You realised you were touching his hair, running your fingers through it. His lips formed an encouraging smile.

"Are you guys alright?"

You looked up. Sophia was standing over you. Benji was next to her, smiling suspiciously. Your hand retreated under the blanket, and Van's eyes opened more at the loss of contact than the question. How long had you been spacing out with each other?

"Yes," you answered.

"Van?" she asked.

"Peachy, Soph. How are you?"

"I'm good. Not as drunk as either of you though. Look after each other, yeah?" You both nodded and they walked away laughing. Van made a whining sound and started to aimlessly reach about for your hand. You gave it to him and he put it on his head. He wanted more hair touching.

"Van," you said after a while. He nodded and smiled, eyes still closed. "I like your freckles,"

"I like your nose," he replied quickly.

"I like your eyelashes,"

He sat up then and sat sprawled out on the beanbag. He looked at you with a sly grin. "You always smell good,"

"You talk with your hands and it's really hard not to love."

He moved closer, till his face was only centimetres from yours. "I like your lips," he said and his voice was deeper than when he last spoke.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he confirmed.

He leant in and kissed you and it felt like crossing the line of a marathon. You were exhausted from the crush, but it was done now. All that was left was the after party. You kissed him back and tried to coordinate your movements. Whenever you moved, the beans in the bags would shift, unbalancing you both. It was funny, but the longer you kissed, hardly coming up for air, the more frustrating it was. You both wanted to touch and hold and the instability of your location was impairing those processes. Van let out a frustrated sound and stood, pulling you up with him. It was too quick and you swayed and almost fell, but he already had you by the waist.

"Do you want-" he went to ask.

"Yes," you replied without thinking.

"Sure? 'Cause you're very drunk and I don’t-"

"You're very drunk," you said back like a teenager would say 'your mum is.' Van grinned.

"Yeah, but babe, I think about fucking you all the goddamn time. So I know I'm good to go." His words reverberated through your entire body and settled somewhere in your heart and somewhere between your legs. You bit your lip and tried to reply, but what do you say back to that? You took his hand and pulled him through the room. You walked past Sophia and were suddenly very impressed with her lipstick. You told her so and she laughed.

"Safety first, kids," she yelled as you walked down the hallway to her bedroom.

Van kicked the door closed behind him and you stood waiting. You grinned when he turned around.

"Arms up," he ordered and you giggled as he pulled your dress over your head. You unbuttoned his shirt as you kissed, then started on his belt. His hands were unclipping your bra, and as it dropped to the floor he groaned at the sight of you alone. He kissed a line down the middle of your body, like there was a vertical equator he was mapping. When he kissed just under your belly button you squirmed and pushed him away. He was crouching down, weight on his toes, and your force sent him falling backwards. He looked up at you. "What's wrong?" he asked getting up and sitting on his knees.

"Not there,"

"Okay. Why though?" His arms were reached out and you stepped into them. He put his lips on your hip bones and everywhere else.

"I had this boyfriend once," you started to tell him, too drunk to know when it was an appropriate time for an ex-boyfriend story. 

"Can I?" he interrupted, pulling at the waistband of your underwear.

"Yeah,"

"You sure?"

"Van. Yes," you laughed and continued speaking as you stepped out of them. "And he wouldn’t let me go out on our dates if I hadn't, like, shaved my legs and stuff. The first time I was naked with him he told me this was gross," and you pointed to the thin curly hairs that trailed downwards from your belly button. You'd always liked them, but the ex really fucked that up for you. Van stopped and looked up at you. He gripped your hips harder and pressed his head to your stomach, then kissed the snail trail over and over again, until you were a fit of giggles and were crying his name. You stepped back and fell on the bed. Van climbed on top of you and held your hands above your head.

"I think every single part of you is perfect," he said.

"You're very fucking drunk though,"

"Guess we'll just have to do this again when we're sober so I can prove my point, yeah?"

You laughed and nodded. Even filled with drunk confidence, you weren't stupid enough to think you'd be this brave again. Not sober, at least. There was also a thought in the back of your mind telling you that it wasn't like you were about to fuck a cute stranger. It was Van. Your friend. Your crush. Surely sex could only serve to complicate your life? But then again… his eyelashes, and his long fingers, and his constant asks for consent…

Distracted for only a second, you returned your undivided attention to Van. He had rolled off you and was trying to pull his drainpipe jeans off. You laid on your side and watched amused. He was being extra dramatic on purpose, you were sure. When he was finally naked he sighed and stared at the ceiling for a moment, then turned to you.

"I'm dead serious, Y/N, 'bout that. And what I said before about thinking about you all the time,"

"Okay. I need you to tell me that when we're sober, but right now I just need you to kiss me, yeah?"

You reattached yourself to each other, like it was easier to breathe like that. Like having your bodies connected at the hips, crawling into each other with sick want was the absolute natural way of things. The night was good, and the morning was coming - you knew that. But, in Sophia's bedroom, tangled up with Van between sheets that didn't belong to either of you, the morning didn't matter. It was a faraway concept where your future together depended on so many variables still too new and volatile to predict. All that mattered was the then and the there. The skin on skin, the messy kisses, the snowflake fingertips. Drunk you was definitely smart enough to know that.


End file.
